


Hawkeye, Hawkguy, and Artemis

by Hinn_Raven



Series: Crossover Weekend [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archery, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemis Crock gets a phone call late at night--Clint Barton has been compromised, and SHIELD wants her and Kate Bishop to come in. She's not technically part of the Avenger's Initiative, but since when has that stopped her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkeye, Hawkguy, and Artemis

The phone rang in the middle of the night. Artemis Lian Crock groaned, rolled over, and picked it up. Beside her, her boyfriend Wally West stirred. “Babe?” He asked sleepily. He was wearing Captain America boxers and a baggy t-shirt that had once been Conner’s, but had long since been reappropriated for Wally’s pajamas.

“Go back to sleep Wally,” Artemis told him, only half awake herself. She looked at her expensive Stark-Phone, the touch-screen lit up to show an unknown number. She pressed the bright green talk button and held it up to her ear, expecting to hear a familiar cackle of laughter and then Dick’s voice. “Hello?

 “Miss Crock,” a familiar, harsh voice said, automatically causing an adrenaline spike. Artemis stiffened straight, feeling sleep fade away.

“Director,” she said, her tone professional, although she was mentally reeling. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” A glance at the red glare of her electronic alarm clock told her that it was three in the morning.

“Agent Barton’s been compromised,” Fury’s voice was clipped and brusque. Artemis got out of bed, her hair tumbling down her back as she headed for her closet. Her bare feet padded softly across the wooden floor-boards. She wore baggy sweatpants and a tight tank-top, both in her familiar green and black colors. “We need you to come in.”

“To take him down?” She asked, eyes hard and voice cold. Her free hand clenched into a tight fist as she stared blankly ahead.

“To help us save him.”

She exhaled, not caring if Fury heard it. “Where’s the pick up?”

“Bishop’s coming in too. She’ll be outside your door in half an hour. Be ready.” Fury hang up, giving him the last word. He liked the last word.

Artemis sighed. There was a sudden gust of air, the sound of something moving too quickly, and then Wally was there, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You okay?” He asked, breath tickling her ear.

“Clint’s been compromised. SHIELD’s asked Kate and me to come in.”

Wally held her close, turning her around to face him. “That’s not what I asked,” he said softly, green eyes soft.

She kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. His hand rested on her neck, keeping them close together. It was gentle and worried, concern running through both of them.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers as they finally separated.

“Always,” she promised, running her hand down his face, making sure that every feature was burned into her memory.

She reluctantly pulled away, stepping into their closet, shedding her pajamas as she went. Her old uniform was there, familiar and safe.

Her uniform from her childhood had been refitted. Gone was the impractical bared midriff, gone was the cowl. The material was sturdier, and the colors subdued, but the green and the arrow motif was still there, a small remnant of home, even in this strange world. Artemis stepped into it, letting it fill her with the confidence that had once come with it, of saving lives and the world. She missed being a superhero.

She slung her quiver over her shoulder, fastening it carefully. Her compound bow expanded into her grip, and she drew the string, testing to see if it was still in perfect working condition. She smiled grimly, slipping on her arm bands and fingerless gloves. She pulled on her heavy combat boots, slipping her knives into place as she went.

She straightened up and exited the closet, determined to get some coffee and food before Kate showed up and the two of them could beat up Clint for being an idiot.

* * *

Steve Rogers  was a bit surprised by Artemis Crock and Kate Bishop.

Crock looked to be in her early twenties, with Asian features and brown skin that contrasted sharply with her long blonde hair, which she had pulled into a ponytail that looked impractical for fighting. Her steely eyes leapt everywhere, analyzing everything. She wore a tight-fitting uniform of black and green leather-Kevlar-and-spandex that a lot of agents wore, with a SHIELD insignia on her right leg, and an arrow design on her chest. Her hands were scarred and calloused; she was used to working with them. Fighting with them.

Kate Bishop was very different, and yet very similar. Thick black hair hung loose past her shoulders, held back by a purple headband. Bangs covered her forehead, stopping just above elegant black eyebrows, which were held aloft as she looked around. They were very expressive eyebrows. Her eyes were hidden by purple-tinted aviator glasses, but from the twist of her mouth he was willing to bet that she was rolling them. She looked to be a few years younger than Crock, but her hands were nearly as calloused, if not nearly as scarred. She hadn’t seen as much action as Crock, but she still knew how to handle the recurve bow that was in the quiver slung over her back. Her uniform was… well, non-existent. She wore a purple, high necked catsuit which only had one sleeve, fingerless gloves, a black belt slung across her waist, and practical combat boots.

“Captain Rogers,” Agent Romanoff said, smiling as she looked at the young women. “Agent Crock, Miss Bishop.”

“I’m not an agent any more, Natasha,” Crock said, her voice a dry alto, her mouth pulling down. “Retired.”

“Reinstated for the time being,” Romanoff said, shrugging. “Above my pay grade.”

The two women huffed in unison, making Steve wonder if they were related at all.

“Kate and I are here because a friend of ours was taken captive by Loki,” Crock explained, reaching out with her hand. Steve shook it, feeling the archer’s calluses first-hand. Her grip is firm, and her eyes don’t waver. He likes her. There’s a thin scar on her fourth finger of her left hand, paler than the rest of her skin; a wedding ring that she had removed. He wondered if it was for the mission, or for more tragic reasons.

“A pleasure,” he said, and meant it.

* * *

Artemis sat next to Natasha in the plane, and watched as Captain America duked it out with a Norse God.

“Did you have these in your reality?” Natasha asked.

“Aliens or gods?” Artemis asked, mind going back to the Forever People that Conner told her about, and Conner himself, and M’gann, and Wonder Woman…

“You have both?” Natasha didn’t know much about Artemis’s world. Fury knew pretty much everything, but he was _Fury_. Clint knew almost as much, but Artemis didn’t like to talk about it. Didn’t like to talk about what she’d lost.

Natasha had met Wally a few times, met Dick Grayson three times, Conner Kent and Megan Morse twice, and had caught a glimpse of the mysterious Kaldur Durahm once, when she had collapsed at Artemis’s house after a mission. She had never been as close to Artemis as Clint, but they’d done work together. They trusted each other.

“Yeah,” Artemis said, smiling as Stark interrupted the fight with a blast of rock music. “M’gann’s an alien, you know. Conner’s half.”

That’s right, M’gann was how Megan’s name was really pronounced, non-Anglicized. Natasha knew a bit about that, about changing names with the world. Romanoff, Romanova, Romanof, Natasha, Natalie, Natalia, Black Widow, all were the same in the end, weren’t they?

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement, watching as Loki was “defeated”. Her eyes narrowed. She knew a thrown fight when she saw one. Loki was up to something.

* * *

Kate wanted to slap Clint. Idiot. How could he get himself brainwashed? She paced, her fingers twitching for her bow and arrows, but she restrained herself. She would need her arrows soon enough, as well as her strength.

Loki was escorted past the room where she was in, a simple conference room where she and Artemis sat around a table, along with Captain Freaking _America_ , an amazingly armed (and this coming from an archer) and hilariously haired Norse god, and a science dude who apparently could turn into a rage monster.

Artemis crossed her arms, leaned against the wall. Her face was blank. Kate went over to her, trying to force herself to relax in her fellow archer’s company.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Artemis said quietly, not even looking at Kate. She didn’t need to.

“I know it’s not,” Kate muttered, rubbing her bare shoulder embarrassedly. “It’s just…”

“You wish you’d been there,” Artemis said. “To save him.”

“Yeah.” Kate said softly.

“No use dwelling on that. It just makes things worse.” Artemis said flatly. There it was again, that reminder that before it had been the Hawkeyes, Artemis had been on another team. She didn’t like to talk about it, but it had happened.

Kate had met Artemis when she was sixteen and Artemis was twenty-one. She’d been looking for her boyfriend Wally, who had apparently done something really stupid and vanished on her. Her eyes had been haunted, but her aim had been true and her hands steady. Kate was hurting too, the pain new and the helpless feeling overwhelming and terrifying.

“Teach me how to shoot a bow,” Kate had said, no, _pleaded_. She’d been so ashamed afterward, asking favors from a stranger in a bizarre outfit and a mask.

Artemis had turned her gaze onto her, evaluating. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Kate said, overcoming her shame. She would never be helpless again.

“Come on then.”

It had spiraled from there, becoming a blur of archery blisters and fletching splinters. Eventually she had joined Artemis on the rooftops of Boston, fighting crime. It had been wonderful; adrenaline and saving people, being a hero—the complete antithesis of the helpless little girl she had been. She would never be helpless again, and neither would anyone else, not as long as she could stop it.

A couple of vigilante archers drew the attention of another archer.

Hawkeye.

“You two are _good_ ,” he had said, smirking. “Hey, you think hanging with an older guy would cramp your style?”

“If you slow us down, you get ditched,” Artemis had told him. “Hey, you have access to more of those trick arrows? I’m running low.”

Kate pulled herself out of her flashback just in time for Tony Stark to make an entrance, spouting off science.

Finally, Artemis pushed herself away from the wall. “I need to make a phone call,” she said, lips pressed into a thin line. She strode out of the room, unnoticed by the bickering superheroes. Romanoff and Fury saw, however.

Kate wondered what exactly her best friend had gotten herself into. Or what she was about to get them out of.

* * *

Dick yawned, watching as the news coverage flashed of the man wearing a Captain America suit, Iron Man, and a dude in a ridiculous helmet in Germany. It had been a few hours ago, but the footage, brief though it was, was being circulated constantly, in between mini-documentaries about Captain America and a few stock quotes from Tony Stark.

“You think this is why Artemis got called in?” Conner asked, leaning over the couch. Conner was finally aging; he looked nineteen now, much to his relief and joy. One of the many things that had changed in this world.

“Gotta be,” Dick responded with a nod. He flicked on his wrist-computer, the holographic screen glowing brightly blue. “I managed to get some police reports that said that there was an attack in same town—by an archer.”

“Hawkeye?” Conner asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in an expression of concern.

“Probably. Artemis said Clint was ‘compromised’ right?”

“That’s right,” Wally confirmed, stepping into the living room, balancing sixteen BLTs on a tray. “She wasn’t sure how though.”

“You don’t think it could be like Roy, do you?” M’gann asked, entering the room. M’gann’s hair was now in a bob, held out of her face by a black headband. She wore her human guise, but the shirt she wore bore the mark of Martian Manhunter. M’gann had allowed herself to age as well, her face slightly thinner and more angular than when she had first arrived on Earth. She sat down next to Dick, tucking her bare feet underneath her.

“I don’t know what to think,” Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “I can’t hack into SHIELD from off-site without them noticing. Maybe Babs could have done it but I can’t.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Kaldur said calmly, carrying a tray of glasses. He had grown his hair out, but it was still cropped close. He wore a turtle-neck in his Atlantian colors to conceal his gills, but there was nothing he could do to hide his webbed hands or feet. Kaldur stood out. And this world did not even have an Atlantis to hide in. Kaldur was paler than he had been in times past, and Wally felt a familiar rush of pain as he noticed it. It was his fault that his friend was trapped here in this strange world, unable to venture out too often for fear of being mistaken as a mutant, and being attacked for it.

Everything was his fault. It was his fault that they were separated from their families, from the rest of the Team, from their _world_. If it wasn’t for him…

He squashed down that feeling quickly. The others, as they liked to remind him frequently, had made the choice to come with him, to stay here until the speed-force stabilized enough for him to go home.

It didn’t make it any easier, knowing that Kaldur lived in a world where he had no escape except for their house.

The house was a fairly large one—it had to be to house two married couples and two bachelors. It was a large redbrick house in a small town—selected because of low crime rates and distance from everything. There was an indoor pool that they had installed, along with an underground tunnel to the nearby lake, so that Kaldur could have some freedom. Three floors, three bathrooms, an extra-large kitchen, and the six of them. Wally ate a BLT sandwich, hoping that the bacon would suck up the angst and replace it with bacony goodness. It worked. Somewhat. Wally blamed the lettuce for the remaining angst.

M’gann punched him in the arm, probably having detected his thoughts. He laughed, poking Dick with his foot. “Hey, so you have any clues about the helmet guy?”

“Not a thing!” Dick said cheerfully. “It’s gonna take a _lot_ of detective work…”

Wally’s phone rang. He leapt for it, recognizing the ring tone instantly.

_She’s a Killer Queen_

_Gunpowder, guillotine_

_Dynamite with a laser beam_

_Guaranteed to blow your mind_

_Anytime_

“Hey babe!” He said, “What’s up?”

“Alien invasion incoming. Point of origin unknown. Be on standby?”

“Love you too. Of course.”

“Sorry, just… briefing.”

“Hey, was that really Captain America?”

“Yes. He was frozen in ice apparently.” Wally let out a small moan that sounded vaguely like _science_. “They defrosted him.” There was a whimper of pain. “Oh, go cry about your broken laws of physics, chemistry and biology later, geek.”

“Never,” Wally said mournfully. “My true loves are all injured by everything.”

“You’re a superhero Wally. The laws of physics shatter in your mere presence.”

“You lie!” Wally screamed, leaping to his feet dramatically. “I would never injure the laws of physics! I am their champion!”

Artemis laughed, finally allowing him to break through. It was a tense, short laugh, but it was a laugh all the same. He grinned, hoping he managed to help with her tension. “I love you,” she said quietly.

“I love you too babe,” he promised, wishing she was in the house, with him. “Always.”

He could see her smile in his mind. “Be careful.”

“That’s my line.”

“Goodbye.”

“Be safe.”

She hung up. Wally looked at them. Conner had heard every word, of course, but he still had to say it. “Alien invasion. Artemis wants us on standby.”

“I’ll prep the Bio-Ship,” M’gann said, getting to her feet gracefully. As she moved, her skin shimmered, the green spreading up her body, transforming her into the Martian heroine of their younger days. Her cape sprung from her neck, falling to cover her back and shoulders in a tumble of navy fabric. Her jeans constricted, clinging to the skin before the color darkened to a pitch black. Miss Martian left the room, her mind opening up, enveloping the Team in a blanket of familiarity as the mindlink hummed with anticipation.

Conner grumbled, getting to his feet, trying to remember where he had stored his Superboy shirts. M’gann projected an image of their closet, even giving her husband a handy quick glimpse of which shelf he’d left it neatly folded.

Kaldur went to his room, intent on making sure that his water-bearers were full before he headed off for battle. _Maelstrom_ , they could hear him think longingly as he ran his fingers along the red of his costume. Aqualad was, after all, a very young name for a man of almost twenty-seven.

Dick left as well, muttering about the number of wing-dings he had, and whether or not he would need the electrified bo-staff.

Wally pulled the Flash ring he carried everywhere out of his pocket, and flipped it into the air, the lightning bolt catching the light. Back in the game, he thought, the mere concept causing a giddy feeling that bubbled under his skin, pulling his face up into a wide, goofy smile that would not have been out of place on the face of a fifteen year old boy who had stood outside the Hall of Justice, with a world of hopes and dreams in front of him.

“Today’s the day,” he whispered, flicking open the ring.

* * *

Coulson was dead. Artemis was frozen, her eyes not moving from the bloodstained cards—Coulson’s pride and joy, which Clint had always made fun of him for, which he had guarded with nearly lethal force and an impressively cutting snark, now covered in blood and stained, scattered carelessly on the table.

Clint was safe, but Coulson was dead. A hatred for Loki clenched at her heart, tighter than her hatred for the Light when they’d forced Tula to sacrifice herself, tighter than her hatred for the Joker after Jason, almost as tight as her hatred for the Reach after Wally had stupidly tried to sacrifice himself, forcing her to lose eighteen awful months with him. She wanted to put an arrow through that bastard’s eye. Other eye, since Clint had dibs, but still.

She went to the infirmary, needing to make sure that Clint was okay. Kate fell into step with her, her fellow archer’s face stained with tears. There were none on Artemis’s face. She’d cry later, when she was alone with Wally; she’d break and scream and cry, but only then. Now there was the mission, and Clint, and an invasion to fight.

“Hawkguy,” she called, knocking on the door briefly before coming without waiting for an answer.

“Hey Artie,” he muttered, not looking at her, “Katie-Kate.”

“Shut up Clint, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’ve got a Norse Asshole to shoot until he’s a pin cushion.”

“You only get one first shot for his eye,” Artemis told him. “If you miss, you don’t get re-dos.”

“I never miss,” Clint grumbled. “Brats.”

Artemis slung an arm over his shoulder. She leaned in close to him, allowing her hair to block the view of her mouth so that Natasha couldn’t read her lips. “You’ll be fine. M’gann can remove any residual damage. You’re in control.”

Clint laughed, bitter and broken. “You sound sure.”

“It worked last time,” she said quietly. He blinked, thrown off.

“Now,” Kate said, crossing her arms. “Let’s go stop the alien scum.”

* * *

Because Loki was a diva alien with a sense of grandeur and irony, the invasion is in New York. Artemis sent a text to the Team, and hopes that they would make it in time.

They’re on the ground, getting ready for a fight, when Artemis saw a familiar ripple in the air. She grinned suddenly, throwing off the Avengers who had not fought with her before. “Back up’s here,” she announced.

“We have back up?” Stark asked, twisting in midair to see where she was looking. “Whoa, that is some high tech camouflage, who has that high tech camouflage?  Even I don’t have that high tech camouflage—”

The Bio-Ship landed, and shimmered into view. The door slid down, revealing the Team in all their costumed glory.

Conner wore his usual outfit, not even bothering with a mask. Dick wore his Nightwing suit, albeit the altered one with those ridiculous finger stripes that he was so fond of, which he claimed improved his attractiveness by sixteen percent, but in reality only made Artemis want to punch him sixteen percent more. Kaldur too wore his old outfit, his water-bearers already drawn, prepared for a fight. M’gann still sat in the main seat, mouth a thin grim line, but her legs crossed primly and her hands extended onto the control panels.

Artemis’s heart caught in her throat as Wally stood there, decked out in the red of the Flash. The Flash, not Kid Flash. He’d never looked better. Artemis wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but it probably wasn’t the best idea. Yet.

“We were told there is an invasion?” Kaldur asked simply, raising one eyebrow.

“You have gills,” Stark noted. “And she is green.”

“And you wear a high-tech suit,” Dick shrugged. “Don’t judge.”

“Does that ship of yours have much firepower, ma’am?” Rogers asked, clearly struggling to keep his face under control.

“Yes Captain,” M’gann said. “I’m Lady Martian. We’re friends of Artemis’s.”

“ _Martian_?” Rogers whispered to himself, incredulous. “Good. You join Stark and Thor in the sky then. The rest of you…”

“Superman, Maelstrom, Nightwing, and the Flash,” Artemis said, pointing to each of the boys in turn.

 _I hate the future_ , might as well have been written on Captain America’s face. “You’re on the ground with Widow and me then. Archers to the roofs.”

“Need a lift, Katniss?” Stark asked Artemis. “What about Merida and Legolas?”

“My name is a perfectly good archery reference, don’t go digging,” Artemis told him, raising an eyebrow. “And sure.”

* * *

Loki was in chains, New York was saved, and Steve just wanted to sleep. But for now, he’d settle for eating shwarma and getting to know the Maelstrom fellow, whose actual name seemed to be Kaldur.

“I hate aliens,” Stark muttered. Thor, Conner (as Superman had insisted on being called the minute the Chitauri were all dead, and M’gann (as Lady Martian’s real name turned out to be) turned to look at him. Thor looked wounded, Conner amused, and M’gann mocking. “Ah shut up,” he muttered.

“Yep, genius. Definitely seeing it,” Nightwing said with a solemn nod.

“You are annoying and wearing spandex,” Stark said, eyes narrowing. “And that symbol of yours has been attached to someone who tries to hack my company a lot. Do you have a job?”

“Not if you’re offering,” Nightwing grinned. “Your security is really good.”

“I would hope so, I designed it.”

“Oh god, they’re going to make computers do things aren’t they,” Artemis muttered, poking her shwarma sleepily.

“Probably babe,” Wally said, grinning at his wife, running his fingers through her hair gently. He was talking biochemistry with Doctor Banner, using lots of multi-syllable words and things that sounded like they’d been taken out of a sci-fi comic.

M’gann and Natasha were talking as well, talking about the tactic of making people underestimate them before doing surprisingly vicious things to them. Well, they hadn’t reached the second part yet, but Steve knew it was coming.

“So, you lead these guys?” He asked Kaldur.

“For many years,” Kaldur said with a nod.

“… do your plans ever actually work?”

“On occasion. I savor it greatly.”

Steve and Kaldur sighed in unison. 


End file.
